Safe

Whose is this,
shouts the man dressed all in blue,
— this yellow goose
like a doll in a wig?

The colour is an offence.

He has stopped by the boating lake
annoyed at the Hebe flowering mauve
and the golden blooms of poppies.

His log book edges
from his blue jeans pocket
and his turquoise pen winks at the sky. He
pushes it back in
where the blue ink spreads
across his thigh.

The goose
won’t look at him
not even sideways, but

She tilts her head in thought
trying to understand
what bothers him so much.

A red boat passes on the lake.

She feels the warmth of his arm cradling her
downy belly, holding her safe.